


Silver Dagger

by mrgoldsdearie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-04-29 05:36:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5117453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrgoldsdearie/pseuds/mrgoldsdearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumbelle werewolf au - Belle French is the newest detective on the case assigned to solve a stream of killings in Storybrook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Body in the Street

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic two years ago when I fist started writing, it was a mess, I was embarrassed of it and I never thought I’d bring it up the surface again. But Rumbeller’s were asking for a multi chapter monster au, ‘cause our fandom was lacking them and I though about working on this fic again. And I realized what was actually wrong with my original werewolf one shot. It needed to be multi chapter. I was trying to move the story too fast. So I worked on what I already had written, tweaked the fuck out of it and this is the first chapter of I don't know how many. Please enjoy and let me know what you think. Happy reading.

## Chapter One: Body in the Street

 

The moon rests high in the murky sky as it’s light glistens against the damp pavement. Detective Graham Humbert makes his appearance on another grisly murder scene, this time at the edge of town. The scene is surrounded by thick forest and the lights from the cars of uniformed officers are all that illuminate the area. Detective Graham steps out from his late model four-door-pickup as Mayor Regina Mills storms towards his truck.  

“It’s just as horrific as last time.” She stops in front of the detective, with anger and fear burning in her eyes. “You need to do something about this immediately. This is the third murder in two months. People are terrified and threatening to move. Storybrooke is supposed to be a sleepy little town and I can’t keep having murders on my streets.”

Graham opens his mouth to speak and to tell the mayor that he will do all that he can to stop whoever’s responsible for these heinous crimes, but she doesn’t give the man a chance to get a word in edgewise.

“You can no longer work on these cases on your own,” she barks at him, slamming his car door shut. “I’ve hired someone to help you.”

“But ma'am…” He tries to get another word in, state his case of not needing any help, but yet again, she doesn’t allow him.

“You obviously can no longer do this on your own. I have found you a partner and she’ll be meeting you at the station in the morning. You better sharpen up, Detective, and get this thing solved.” she steps into his personal space. “Or I’ll take your job and crush it.”   
  
Graham sees this as his chance to finally respond, but Mayor Mills thunders away from him just as fast as she approached him. He stands, puzzled, for a moment, taking in everything she just shoved down his throat. He knows that he’s doing all that’s possible to solve these murders, but in the eyes of the mayor, it isn’t enough. He never needed a partner and sure as hell never wanted one, but there’s nothing he can do about it now to stop it. He rests his objections for a partner to the side and gives his full attention to the investigation at hand. 

Just a few yards from the town line, the dismembered body lays in the middle of the street in a pool of its own blood. It’s an unidentified male with no personal I.D. This detail mirrors the previous murders. His right arm lays severed from the body on the left side of the torso, it’s shredded with the bones protruding from the limb. The torso itself is missing huge chunks from the stomach area, large and small intestines yanked out for all to see. And the face looks as though it was slashed with a sharp blade. The blood that is splattered all around the pavement give the appearance that it could have come from more than one person, but it didn’t.

Graham sees no signs of any of the missing body pieces, only the arm, and he knows whoever did this must have taken those parts with them. A trophy collector. _“Sick fuck,”_ he thought to himself.

After collecting evidence and taking all the pictures needed, the detective instructs the coroner to remove the body.

Detective Graham continues with his sweep around the crime scene. He follows and marks the trails of blood from where the body laid and out into the woods. Finding several animal tracks in the area that disappears off into the lake. The tracks and the blood are all that he finds. And with a vicious killing like this, not finding any bloody shoeprints is rather odd.

The detective takes notes, pictures, and gathers every shred of evidence he can possibly find in the small patch of the forest then returns to the street.

Graham talks with the first officers who arrived on the scene. They responded to an anonymous tip. He doesn’t get much more information out of them just a retelling of what he already knows. After doing all that he can, making sure that his job is a thorough one, Detective Graham walks the evidence to the car.

As he opens the back door to unload his arms, a dark colored car pulls up behind his truck. Graham closes the door and heads towards the vehicle to demand that they’d leave the area. The last thing he needs is a civilian at his crime scene. “Hey!”, he shouts, standing in front of the high beam headlights. “You can’t be here.” Waves his arms.     
  
The driver of the car opens their door, as books and papers fall out from their lap. A woman with her dark chestnut colored hair pulled tightly in a ponytail, wearing a black and white pantsuit with a multi-colored bow tie, hastily steps out of the car. She begins to clean up her mess, clumsily stepping on the papers with her white converse sneakers.  
  
Graham charges over to assist the woman. He needs to get her away from the scene as quickly as he can. “This area is under investigation, miss. You can’t be here.” He bends down and removes a book from underneath her shoe.   
  
“I know, I know.” She swoops up more of her damp items from the street and takes the book from his hand. “I should’ve waited until tomorrow. I just wanted to get an early start on things,” speaks swiftly, but her voice wobbles from her nervousness and embarrassment. She shoves the wet books and papers back into the car, then quickly turns around with an extended hand. “Hello, sir.” Suddenly, she notices the mud on her palm, wipes it on the back of her pants and extends it out to him again. “I’m Belle French.” A smile stretches upon her face.  
  
He gives her a bewildering glare but shakes her hand anyways. “Nice to meet you Miss French, but like I said to you before, you can’t be here.”   
  
“Oh!… Just a moment.” She turns back to the car and climbs in, rumbling around in the glove compartment. “Where is it? Where is it?”, mumbles to herself. “Ha! There you are.” She steps out of the car and hands the detective a piece of paper.   
  
Graham takes the paper and skims his eyes over it, glances up at Belle with a mystified expression on his face, then reads over the paper again. The document she handed him are her credentials from the mayor. Miss Belle French is the person assigned to assist in the investigation. “This odd girl?”, he thought to himself. “You’re fresh out of the academy.” He hands her back the document.

A rookie? The mayor seriously assigned a rookie?  
  
“Yes I am, but I was first in my class, sir. I’m a fast learner and I’m very organized.” She anxiously peeks back at the disaster in her car and turns to face the detective. “Organized with official documentation.” She saves herself from the whole she just dug. “Not so much with my own personal stuff.” A timid little chuckle escapes her lip. “Unfortunately.”   
  
He leers over her shoulder and takes another look in her car. What a mess. “I take it you’ve never done field work before.” Crosses his arms.  
  
“No, sir, but I’m extremely eager to learn and I can do anything you ask. I’m very good at research, I can find almost anything. I can take the stress off of your shoulders,” she states with confidence. “Together, I know we can solve this case, sir.” Stands with her hands behind her back.  
  
“Huh.” Detective Graham uncrosses his arms. Maybe this partner thing isn’t such a bad idea. There are a few things she can be useful for, like the footwork. “Well, Miss French. There isn’t much you can do tonight. Come to the station in the morning,” he pauses, “Like you were supposed to do,” he adds. “And I’ll get you up to speed on the case.”   
  
“Thank you, sir. I’ll make you proud.” She quickly takes his hand and shakes it vigorously, but immediately stops when she see an uncomfortable expression splashes upon his face. “I’m sorry, sir.” Glances down at the moist ground with her hands in her pockets.   
  
“Don’t worry about it, Miss French.” He marches to his car, stops, and circles back to face Belle. “You don’t have to call me, sir. Graham or Detective is just fine.”   
  
“Okay, I’ll remember that, sir…” Catches herself. “I mean, Graham.” She steps into the car, closes the door and starts the engine. “I’ll bring coffee in the morning,” shouts out the window as she drives away.   
  
“A rookie,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head and thinking that tomorrow will be an extremely long day. The detectives sit in his car, slams the door and exits the scene. Leaving the area to be swept over by the lab rats.

* * *

Three hours after everyone has cleared the crime scene, Belle French returns to do a little investigating of her own. She observes the area, collecting samples and taking her own personal pictures. Gathering as much information as she can, before meeting with the detective in the morning. She wants to make sure nothing was overlooked. This is her first case and she’s going to do a rigorous job on it. She needs to solve these murders.

As Belle walks backward, taking pictures of the dried blood stains on the street, she bumps into something behind her. “Oh!” Drops the camera from her hand and immediately turns around. She stands startled by the site of a man with feathery shoulder length hair wearing a black suit and holding a gold handle cane with a black shaft in his right hand. “Where the hell did you come from?”, she questions.

“My apologies, dearie,” he speaks with a Scottish brogue. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright.”

“You shouldn’t be standing out here. This is a crime scene.” She bends down to picks up her camera.   
  
He nods. “I know that. We are surrounded by police tape, after all.”

“Yes we are and you are on the wrong side of it.”

“I know that too, but I was just making sure that you were alright.” He flashes a smirk. “One should not be out here alone. Especially, a little thing like you.”   
  
"I’m fine, thanks for checking up on me, but I didn’t need you too.” She checks the lens of her camera and it chips off. “I’m one of the investigators on the case.” Picks up the broken lens. “So it’s okay for me to be here. Besides, people, who commit the type of crime I’m investigating never come back to the scene.”   
  
“You’d be surprised by how many returns to the scene of the crime, dearie. It’s safer for you not to be alone.”   
  
“Every textbook I’ve read about these crimes says otherwise.” She tries to force the lens back on the camera. “So I’m sticking with that information if you don’t mind.” The lens pops off the camera once again.  
  
“I don’t mind at all. However you wish to investigate is your concern. I’m not here to stop you.” He leans forward on his cane to get a closer look at her camera. “Dearie, you’re going to have to get that repaired.”

“Yes, yes I know.”

“Hmm.” He takes a step closer to her. “I own the antique and pawn shop. Why don’t you drop the camera by sometimes and can fix it for you.”   
  
“"Thank you mister, but…”  
  
“Mr. Gold.” He abruptly cuts off her sentence and extends his hand with a grin.   
  
“Oh, well Mr. Gold.” She shakes his hand. “I don’t know if I’ll have any time, but I’ll try to swing it by,” she expresses.   
  
“I’ll be looking forward to it.”   
  
Belle picks up the camera lens along with the samples she collected and stands to find that Mr. Gold has completely vanished. “Hey!”, she calls out but receives no reply. She had a few investigative questions for him. “Okay, that was creepy.” Checks her surroundings, trying to pinpoint the direction he took, but he is nowhere in sight. “How can a man with a cane leave so fast?”, mumbles to herself as she gathers up the rest of her things and heads to her car. Making her leave from the scene for the second time.

  
  


##  *********

 

The next morning, Belle stops by Granny’s Diner, located on Main Street, to pick up the coffee she said she would bring to the office for the detective. She places her order and takes a seat at one of the booths by the window.   
  
“Hello again.”  
  
Belle recognizes that accent from last night and turns in the booth.  
"Hey,” she replies. "You left so quickly last night. I had a few questions for you.”   
  
He tilts his head slightly to the right. “You did?”

“Yes, like what were you doing their last night at the edge of town?”

He grins, laughing to himself. “Are you investigating me, Detective?”

“Kind of, but you’re not a suspect, at least, not that I know of. Then again, everyone’s a suspect.”

“That’s very true. Well… Then I must answer your question to clear my name,” he comments. “Sometimes I can’t sleep, so I park the car and take a walk. The exercise helps with my insomnia.”

“Where was your car?”

“Parked behind the town’s welcome sign. I didn’t walk far last night, leg pains.”

“Oh, I see.”

“So, are you finished investigating me, Directive?”

“Yes.” She nods. “For now.”

“Well that’s a relief.” he chuckles. 

The waitress brings two to-go cups to Belle’s booth and she turns away from Mr, Gold, and tips the waitress. She then scoots herself to the edge of the booth and stands from the table, taking her coffees in hand. “I’ll see you around, Mr. Gold.”  
  
“Just a moment, Detective.” Gold stands from his booth as well. “The camera you dropped last night, breaking it was kinda my fault. You should allow me to prepare it for you. Free of charge, of course.”   
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yes, dearie. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have broken it.”   
  
“Umm.” Belle takes a moment to think. She wasn’t really sure how much the repairs would have cost her before. She doesn’t have much money just getting out of the academy and the camera was a gift from her father. So, she decides to take Mr. Gold on his offer. “Alright,” she answers eventually.   
  
“Excellent. As soon as you have time, come by my shop. I’ll get that camera fix.”   
  
“Thank you, Mr. Gold.” She smiles brightly. “Well, I better be going before the coffee gets cold.”  
  
“Sounds like a good idea, Detective.”  
  
She heads towards the door, pauses, and circles back to Mr, Gold. “You know what? I never told you my name.”

“Indeed you haven’t.” He limps a few paces with the support of his cane.

“My name is Belle French.”   
  
“It’s a pleasure, Miss French. I’m Damien Gold, by the way.”

“Pleasure to meet you too, Damien,” she says politely.

“Now, I’ve taken up enough of your time already. You should probably be going, Miss French.”   
  
"Yes, I should. Thank you and I’ll be seeing you.” She finally makes her way to the exit.   
  
“You most certainly will,” Damien Gold replies, as he watches her walk out of the dinner.

* * *

Soon after leaving the diner, Belle arrives at the station, gripping the coffee anxiously as she walks through the building. Last night she could sense that Detective Graham was a little annoyed by her presence. He seems like the type of man that works better alone, but now their partners and she really wants to make a good impression. Which is why she’s walking on pins and needles this morning.

As Belle edges closer to Graham’s office, she passes by a couple sitting in the interrogation room. 

When she finally reaches his office, she places her hand on the door and takes in a deep breath before opening. “Good morning, Graham,” says cheerfully as she steps inside and hands him the cup of coffee she promised. Desperately holding back her nerves. "I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee, so I just ordered it black.”  
  
“Thank you, Miss French, black is just fine.” He stands from his desk and glides around to meet her on the other side, picking up files from his desktop. “This is everything we have on the three murders, all of them almost identical.” Takes a sip of his warm coffee and passes her the case files. “The only differences with theses killing are where and when the bodies were found, genders of the victims, and what pieces of the bodies that were missing.”   
  
Belle takes a seat on the couch and flips through the files. “Maybe the killer is taking the pieces… Like, a trophy?”

“That’s an excellent theory Miss French. I was thinking the same.”  
  
“Thank you, sir.” She feels a lot more confident than she did moments ago and he doesn’t seem annoyed with her as he did last night. “I was thinking maybe we had a serial killer since all of the murders seem to be identical.”  
  
“Yes, I thought that as well,” Graham takes a seat on top of his desk.   
  
“Have we been able to identify any of the victims?” Belle inquires. 

“Yes,” answers with a nod. “But just the one from last night.” He hands her another file.   
  
Belle skims over the file and comes across the identity of the man. “Leroy? The town drunk?” She beams at Graham with shock gleaming in her eyes.  “Why would someone kill him?”   
  
“That’s what we have to find out, Miss French.” He clears his throat and crosses his arms. “I take it you saw that couple before you walked into my office.”  
  
“Yes, sir, I did.”  
  
“I’m going to let you do your first interview, Miss French. The couple out there were the last people to see Leroy alive. I want you to talk to them, ask them questions and try to get everything they know.”

Belle nods, showing that she understand. She’s done plenty of interview simulations in school and performing a real one with a seemingly nice looking couple, should be a snap.  

“I’ll be watching you from the two-way.” Graham stands from the desk and steps to Belle extending his hand to help her up from her seat.   
  
She accepts his kind gesture and stands. “I’ll do everything I can. I won’t let you down, sir,” she says proudly.    
  
“I know you won’t, Miss French, and please stop calling me, sir.”  
  
“I’m sorry.” She quickly gathers up the case files from the couch and Graham leads the way to the interrogation room.

* * *

Belle enters the interrogation room alone, giving the couple at the table a nod. She nervous, but keep a solid face before them. Resting her files on the table, Belle takes a seat at the chair across from the couple. “Hello, I’m detective French.” She clears her throat. “I’ll be the one asking you the questions, if that alright?”  
  
“Yes,” the man says. “That’s why we’re here.”

"Okay, so let’s begin.” Belle hits the record button on the audio recorder that was already sitting in the room. “Will you both state your name?”  
  
“I’m Mary-Margaret Blanchard.”  
  
“And I’m David Nolan.”  
  
“You two were the last to see Leroy alive. What can you tell me about the last time you saw him?” She slides one of Leroy’s mug shots across the table.   
  
“We were at the diner having a dinner date, Leroy was there getting drunk as usual,” David states and slides the mug shot back to Belle. “He had an altercation with the owner of the diner, Ulva Lucas, but you know, we all call her Granny.”  
  
Belle nods, returning the picture to the file. “Do you know what the altercation was about?”  
  
Mary-Margaret glances at David, then she answers the question. “No, our guess is that Granny wouldn’t serve him any more drinks. He told her to _get off my back_ , and _the only way I’m leaving is if you throw me out_. Granny took out her crossbow and aimed it at him.”   
  
“She aimed a crossbow at him?” Belle asks astounded.   
  
“Yes, but she didn’t use it. It was her only way to get him out of the restaurant.” David answers. “After he was outside the door, he made another scene then stumbled off.”   
  
“Okay, I see,” Belle speaks, shaking her head. “Did you see him again after that incident?”  
  
“Yes, on our way home. David was driving and we drove passed him. He was headed towards the town line. I saw him being followed by a rather large dog. The dog ran off into the woods and Leroy kept hobbling towards the line. That was the last time we saw him, Detective French.” Mary-Margaret wipes a tear from her eye. These killings are getting out of hand and anyone could be next.  
  
David grips his wife’s hand tightly, comforting her and letting her know that she’s safe with him.  
  
“Thank you for coming in and giving us this new information.” Belle hands Mary-Margret the box of tissues. “This is going to help us a great deal.” She stands up from the table and turns off the recorder. “You’re free to go. Would you like me to show you out?”  
  
“No, but thank you.” David helps his wife from her seat. “We really hope you catch who’s doing this. The whole town is terrified.”   
  
“We’re doing all we can Mr. Nolan.” Belle picks up her files. “I promise you, we’ll solve this case.” Leads them out of the door.  
  
“Thank you, Deputy French,” Mary-Margret says graciously as she and her husband exit the room.   
  
Belle watches them stroll down the hall, hand in hand. Afterward, heads back to Graham’s office.

* * *

Graham sits at his desk, waiting for Belle to return for the interview. “I’m incredibly impressed your interviewing skills, Miss French,” he speaks satisfied, leaning back in the office chair. “I couldn’t have done better myself.”

Belle’s eyes sparkle with acceptance. She had made him proud. "Thank you so much, Graham.” She clutches the files to her chest.

“You got us a lot of new information.“  

“Yes, sir. We learned of Mrs, Lucas’s involvement and we must interview her next.”

“You’re absolutely right, Miss French.” Stand from the chair. “I want you to talk to Mrs. Lucas then study those files. Try to find something I may have overlooked. There may still be a clue I’ve completely missed entirely.”  
  
“Yes, Graham.”

“It’s good to have a second pair of eyes.”

“I agree, sir. I can compare the official files with a few notes I took from the crime scene last night.”  
  
“Miss French, you didn’t take any notes from the scene.” He glares at her, perplexed.  
  
She glances down, biting her bottom lip. “I may have returned to take a few samples of my own,” she softly mutters.    
  
Graham crossed his arms and sighs. “Please do not return to a crime scene unless I’m with you. There’s a lot of things you need to learn about field work and I need to show you.”   
  
She stands with a straight posture and looks the detective square in the eye. “Yes, sir, I apologize.”  
  
“It’s alright, Miss French. Anything you find with your notes and the official files, I want you to bring to me tomorrow morning.” He steps to her, resting his hand on her shoulder. “After you talk to Mrs. Lucas, take the rest of the day to study and we’ll go more in-depth with each other tomorrow.”

She nods.

“You did an outstanding job today, Miss French.”   
  
Now she’s even more motivated to solve this case. “I told you I wouldn’t let you down.” She smiles at the detective and quickly leaves the room, still clutching the files tightly to her chest.

* * *

Belle arrives home to her apartment above the Storybrooke library. Having just finished the interview with Mrs. Lucas. She didn’t gather any new information about Leroy’s whereabouts, only a retelling of what David and Mary informed them of in the interrogation room. Now that she’s home, she studies the case files and compares them to the notes she took from her second visit to the crime scene, as she eats the burger she ordered at the diner. Grazing through the files and learning how viciously the killing was commented, Detective Belle French now see that she has her work cut out for her.


	2. Who Knows Mr. Jones?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle works with Detective Graham on her second day on the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short, but I like the way is turned out. Showing a bit of Graham and Belle’s working relationship is what I was after with this one. No Rumbelle in this chapter, but the next will focus on Werewolf!Gold and what he’s been up to these last two months.

## Chapter Two: Who Knows Mr. Jones?

 

The morning sun rises and beams into the small apartment above the Storybrooke library. Waking up Belle French to start the second day of work on her first case. She crawls out of bed, rubbing her eyes, and lays out her clothes. A black pantsuit with white pinstripes and a pink and black bow-tie. She scuttles into the kitchen and makes herself a bowl of cold cereal for breakfast. The sugary meal will help energize her for a busy day at work.

After eating, Belle takes a shower, dresses in her smart suit and gathers up the case files. She heads out the door a little more confident than the day before. Ready to solve her first case and make Storybrooke a safer place to live.

“Oops, forgot my keys.” She hurries back  into the apartment, snatches up the keys and locks the door behind herself.

Now she heads out to make Storybrooke a safer place to live!

##  **—–**

Belle arrives at the station looking forward to working with Detective Graham. She has read up on him after she was offered the position of being his partner. She studied his past cases in Storybrooke and abroad. He’s a real hero in every sense of the word. And she couldn’t be more proud to be working with such a seasoned veteran.

Belle knocks on the door and walks into Graham’s office, clutching the files to her chest. “Good morning, detective.” She shuts the office door.

He turns his attentions away from his computer. “Morning, Miss French,” he nods. “No coffee today?

"Oh… I’m sorry, sir. I’ll go get you some.” Straightway, she circles back to the door.

Graham laughs a breathy chuckle to himself. “It’s alright, Miss French.” he stands from his chair. “You don’t have to bring coffee every day. I was just having a bit of a laugh. Please take a seat.”

“That’s funny, sir,” she sighs out with a smirk. “You really got me there.” She sits down in the leather chair in front of the wood office desk.

“It appears I did.” He retakes his seat and shuffles the papers on the desk. “So, what do you have for me this morning, Miss French?” He rests the papers down and leans back in the office chair.

“Well, I studied the files and I think I may have found something you overlooked. Though, I’m not sure if it’s much.” She sits the files on the desk.

“Anything you have is worth a look,” he smiles.

She clears her throat, sitting up straight. She’s worked hard all night writing up this theory, and she knows it will be the key to solving the case. "Well, there were animal tracks at every crime scene.” She hands over the photos of the tracks she’s circled. “Also the missing pieces of the bodies, they look to have been eaten out instead of cut out. You can see bite marks if you take a closer look at the pictures. It appears to be an animal attack.”

“I see.” Graham sits up straight, looks at the pictures and reads over her notes. He hates to debunk her hard work. "This isn’t something that’s been overlooked, Miss French.” He closes the file. “We know all about the tracks. And there’s nothing unusual about them when it comes to nasty scenes like these,” he explains. “When an animal smells the blood it gets  attracted to it. It goes around checking out the area and possibly eats whatever’s there.” He leans back in the chair, crossing his arms. “In a perfect world, things like this wouldn’t happen. We’d have all the evidence undisturbed by mother nature and we’d solve the case in a week. But this is not a perfect world and animals tamper with evidence before we even know about a scene. An animal attack seems plausible on the surface, but it’s not the case here. I like the way you’re thinking Miss French, but the simplest answers aren’t always the right answer.”

"I understand that, sir. But the tracks are at every scene.” Something she finds highly unusual.

“Dogs, wolves and foxes and are all over the woods around here. Ms. Blanchard said yesterday that she saw a dog following Leroy the last time she saw him. The dog just came back after Leroy was murdered. It’s just as simple as that. It’s nothing we need to focus on right now.”

Belle shifts in the chair, nodding. She has over thought an insignificant piece of evidence. “I’m sorry, sir. I understand,“ she says softly. “I didn’t mean to waste time. I thought it was a little odd and the tracks seem different from anything I’ve ever seen. Very, very large and looked to have come from the same animal. I just thought maybe there was more to go on.”

"It’s alright, Miss French. Don’t feel bad. You just made a rookie mistake and it won’t be your last. Mistakes can be good. It’s how we learn,” he reassures her. “Don’t get rid of anything you have. You never know, it may come in handy in the future.” he hands her back the file.

“Alright, sir. Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome.”

“So, where do we go from here?” She rests the case files on her lap.

“Well.” He opens the drawer on the right side of his desk and removes another file. “We’ve identified another victim.” Slides Belle the file. “It’s the victim of the first murder. Someone came in and identified his body. They wanted to stay anonymous, so we have to inform the victim’s next of kin.“  

"Yes, sir.” She looks in the file. “If this is just the matter of relaying information to the family, I would like to try and do this on my own.”

“This could be difficult work, Miss French. It can be heartbreaking dealing with a family in mourning.”

“I know I can handle a delicate situation like this,” she speaks confidently. “You saw how I questioned mister and missus Nolan yesterday. I can do just as well with this.”

He takes a moment to think. She did excel in yesterday’s interview. He was able to see how good she is with people. And that’s something important in dealing with a task of informing the next of kin.

“As much as I’d like to send you out on your own, I must be with you every step of the way.” He stands to his feet and rolls the chair under the desk. “You are still in training, but I’ll let you take charge of this portion of the case and do all the talking. But I need see how you handle yourself if things get emotional.”

“Yes. sir. I completely understand.” She stands, holding both files down at her side. “I shouldn’t have asked you to let me go out on my own.”

“It’s okay. It wasn’t a bad thing that you did.” He removes his leather jacket from the back of the office chair and swings it around his shoulder. “The family’s name and the address is in the file.“

“Oh…” She reopens the file and skims through the documents again. “Do we know why no one reported him missing for two months?”, she questions. Someone with a loving family should have been called in as missing.

“I don’t know. It happens sometimes. But maybe we’ll find out after talking to his family.”

“Yes, sir,”  she nods.

Graham places his hand gently on her shoulder and leads the way out of the office. "Oh. By the way,Miss French.” He stops at the door.

“Yes, sir.” She looks to him with concern. What could she have possibly screwed up now?

“The sir thing…”, his lips curl into a half smile. “It’s flattering but extremely unnecessary.”

Dammit! She knew he didn’t like being called sir and it completely slipped her mind. She makes a mental to remember not to call him sir. “I’m sorry, detective,” she apologizes.

“No need to apologize. It’s just a simple mistake and you’ve already fixed it,” he grins.

“Yes, detective,” she smiles back at him and they both head out to his truck.

##  **—–**

Detective Graham and Belle arrive at the home address of the victim’s family. And make their way up the stairs of the apartment building. Though Belle wanted to do this on her own, her body still trembles with nervousness. She’s eager to make a good impression with Graham and the family she’s about to drop bad news on their porch.

Belle stops in front of apartment four-thirty-two and takes a deep breath. She removes her wallet from the inside pocket of her suit jacket before knocking on the door.

The detectives wait almost a minute and a little boy opens the door.

Belle smiles at the child. “Hello. I’m Deceive French,” she shows him her badge. “And this is Detective Hubert. We’d like to speak with your mother or father if either of them is home.”

"Umm…” He looks up at the stairs in the apartment. “Can I see your badge again?”

“Smart kid,” she says with a smirk. “Of course, you can.” Hands him the wallet.

He squints at the badge and taps on the metal making sure it isn’t a fake. “Okay.” He hands her back the wallet. “My mom is home. So you can come in if you like.”

“Thank you. We will, ” she kindly says, as she and Graham enter the apartment.

The little boy escorts the detective to where they can have a sit and goes off  to get his mother.

Belle and Graham wait patiently for the lady of the house. They observe their surrounding. Glancing over family photos on the wall, the style and layout of the furniture in the room. Taking in a sense of a healthy home environment.

A few short moments passes and a tall blond with green eyes comes down the stairs.

Both detectives stand to greet her.

“Hello, I’m Detective French.” Belle extends her right hand. “Are you Miss Emma Swan?”

"Yes, I am.” She shakes Belle’s hand.

“This is Deceptive Hubert,” Belle introduces him.

Emma nods and shakes his hand as well. “Nice meet you both. Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you,” both detective reply and reclaim their places on the couch.

Emma seats in the chair across from Belle. “What brings you to our home, detectives?”

“This is a difficult matter to say, Miss Swan,” Belle speaks sincerely. “But We’re here with terrible news.”

“What?” Emma’s eyes widen and she clutches tightly to the arm of her chair. “Does this have something to do with those murders?” Her heart sinks to the pit of her stomach. Someone she cares about is dead.

“Yes, ma'am. I’m sorry to say that it does.” Belle takes a deep breath.

Emma places her right hand over her heart, trying to calm her breathing. “There’s a million things running through my mind right now. Please just tell me.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Belle glanced at Graham briefly then looks back at Emma. “Your boyfriend…”

“My boyfriend?” Emma says, cutting off Belle’s statement.

“Yes, Miss Swan.” Belle removes a pack of tissues from her pocket. “We found your boyfriend, Killian Jones, murdered a few months ago. He was the victim of the first murder.”

Emma stares at the detectives in utter disbelief.

“Mr. Jones was the one found down at the docks two months ago,” Belle continues to say.

The room falls silent for an entire minute as Emma processes this horrifying news. She doesn’t shed a single tear.

Belle and Graham understand and recognize the process of grief. It usually starts with denial, then followed by anger and eventually acceptance. But Miss Emma Swan is showing none of these signs.

Could her seemingly cold and emotionless behavior be a sign of guilt?

"Detective French,” Emma breaks the uncomfortable silence between them.

“Yes, ma'am?” Belle holds out the tissues. Emma could still cry at any moment. Belle is expecting her too. The man she loves, and possibly the father of the young boy, was savagely murdered, eaten and dumped to rot at the docks. Only a person with something to hide would remain so calm.

“Killian was not my boyfriend,” Emma explains. “What made you think that he was?”

Belle’s eye widened with shock painted on her features. She looks to Graham and he’s almost as dumbfounded she. Belle clears her throat, still looking on to her boss for guidance. But he leaves the situation all up her. He needs to see how she handles it.

The animated expression falls from Belle’s face as she puts the tissues back into her pocket. “Umm…”, she gulps. “He has you listed as his next of kin. Did you not know Killian Jones?”

“I’m listed as his next of kin?”, Emma chokes. “Oh my god!” Shivers race down her spine, as she prepares herself to clear up this mess. “Yes, I knew Killian, but never as a boyfriend. He was a bit of a stalker. It never got out of control just really annoying. He has been trying to get me to go out with him for years. You see, I’m a happily married woman.”

“So this is probably why he wasn’t reported missing.”

“Probably,” Emma agrees. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not happy that he’s dead. I’m just really shocked right now. But I’m not the right person you should be giving this information too.”

The door to the apartment suddenly opens and a man walks inside.

Emma stands from her seat, greeting the man with short brown hair and the stubble of a goatee peppered on his face. She kisses him lovingly and leads him over to where the detectives are sitting.

“Detective French and Hubert, this is my husband Neal.” Emma holds his hand tightly.  

“Ugh?…” Neal gawk at the detectives confused. “What’s going on Emma? Why are the cops here?”

She turns to her husband, looking him square in the eye. “They came to inform me of Killian’s death.”

“What?” Neal chokes. He’s been chasing Killian away from his wife for yeast. It’s unbelievable that the poor sap is dead.

“I was listed as his next of kin,” she adds.

“That’s insane… That's… That’s just crazy.” Neal can’t wrap his mind around such an out of this world concept. “Next of kin? Seriously?”

Belle stands to her feet a little embarrassed by this whole incident. “I’m so sorry for this inconvenience and giving your family a fright. I think it’s best for use go. There’s nothing else I need from you Ms. Swan.”

“It’s okay, detective, you were just doing your job,” Neal reassures her. “It’s not like you knew the guy was a creep.

“No, sir, we did not. We didn’t even know who he was until today.”

“That’s unbelievable,” he rasps his hand quickly through his hair. “Anyways, would you like me to show you out?”, he offers.

“No, no, but thank you. We can see ourselves out.”

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you both,” Graham shakes their hands. “You have a lovely home, and we’ll be in touch if we need anything.”

“Alright, that’s fine,” Emma comments, following Belle as she speedily heads for the door. “We really hope you catch whoever’s responsible. Living here in Storybrooke hasn’t been the same with a killer on the streets.

“We promise to catch them,” Belle assures her, then she and Graham take their leave.

##  **—–**

Belle and Graham return to his truck still baffled of what they’ve just learned.

“You handled yourself nicely back there, Miss French.” Graham compliments his partner and sticks the key into the ignition.

“Thank you, detective. I would be lying if I didn’t say that was difficult and odd.” She buckles her seat belt.

“Yes, you would,” he smirks. “Informing the next of kin is usually more daunting. But you handled the situation well and I’m proud.”

Belle smiles brightly with a feeling of acceptance rushing through her. This is more than she could ask for on her second day. "What do we do with this new information? What we originally have is flawed.”

“Well, as it turns out, Mr. Jones was living in a complete delusion.”

“Yes,” Belle nods agreeing.

“And that just tells me that the person who identified him was living in that same delusion.”

“Possibly. What do we know about this anonymous person? Do we need to track them down.”

“No, not particularly. His name was Smee and he has a solid alibi for the night Mr. Jones was killed.”

“Really? Where was he?”

“He was outta town. Been out traveling with his girlfriend Tinkerbell for a month. Some overseas cruise or something. He’s not our killer just as dupe that was buying into the delusion of his friend,” he answers.

“Oh, I see.”

Graham starts the truck and pulls away from the apartment building. “What we do next is finding out who Mr. Jones really was.“


End file.
